


Aconite

by orphan_account



Series: Firefly [1]
Category: Firefly, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Crossover
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-20
Updated: 2013-04-21
Packaged: 2017-12-09 00:26:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/767840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After taking aboard a group of passengers bound for another planet, the crew of <em>Aconite</em> encounters lawmen and savages as they try to rid of precious cargo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Aconite Valley

**Author's Note:**

> I know the pilot episode is actually titled "Serenity" but seeing as I'm going to be writing a fic for the movie as well (and this is what I've renamed the ship), I figured this would be least confusing.
> 
> A big thanks to [Rox](http://archiveofourown.org/users/hellodickspeight/pseuds/hellodickspeight) for the translations.

The smell of death is choking him, the bright flash of gunfire all around. _I'm going to die_ , he realizes with a sinking feeling in his gut. He sits back, and waits for his end to come.

All of a sudden, Laura flies back behind their barricade, triggering an flood of shouted questions and updates.

"Beta, the Pack says air support is holding till they can assess our status," announces one of the Omegas.

"Our _status_ is we need some gorram air support!" Laura angrily replies. "Now get back online, and tell them to get in here!"

"That skiff is shredding us, sir," says Allison, returning back under cover.

Ignoring her, the Omega from before tells Laura, "They won't move without an Alpha's authorization code, sir."

Laura moves to one of the bodies lying motionless on the ground, ripping off a tag and bringing back to the group. "Here," she says, thrusting it at the Omega. "Here's your code. You're Alpha Baker. Congratulations on your promotion. Now get me some air support!" As the Omega leaves, Laura turns back to the rest of her men. “Pull back just far enough to wedge them in here,” she orders, then turns back to Allison. “Take your squad to high ground. Start picking them off.”

Allison shakes her head. “High ground is dead with that skiff in the air.”

“That’s our problem. Thanks for volunteering,” Laura replies sarcastically, then turns to her brother for the first time. “Derek, give us some cover fire. We’re going duck hunting.”

An explosion shakes their rocky alcove, sending debris raining down upon them. The dust clears, and Derek stares down at an unmoving body in horror.

“Just focus!” Laura yells. She looks around at the disheartened faces of her companions. “The Hunters said they were gonna waltz through Aconite Valley, and we choked them with those words. We’ve done the impossible, and that makes us mighty. In just a little while longer, our angels are gonna be soaring overhead, raining fire on those arrogant frogs, so you hold.” There is no reaction. “You _hold_!” she repeats, yelling this time.

Another explosion rocks their shelter. “Go!” Laura commands.

As the soldiers run off, Allison approaches her Beta. “Do you really think we can bring her down, sir?”

“You even need to ask?” She takes stock of her weapons, making sure everything is in order. “Ready?”

“Always,” replies Allison.

They make to leave, and Allison notices that Derek has not moved from his crouched position. “Derek,” she calls. “Derek!” He looks at her, but makes no other movement. She swears, and turns to shoot at the approaching Hunters. Laura runs out from under cover, and Allison follows.

Terror grips Derek as he watches his sister run out into open fire. Still he does not move. He does not know how much time passes before a mighty crash shakes the ground below him, and a bright light makes him shield his eyes as fire surges from an explosion. Allison and Laura run back behind the defense, slightly singed but otherwise unharmed.

“Nice cover fire,” says Allison scathingly.

“Did you see that?” Laura laughs, evidently referring to the explosion that she must have caused. “Green, what’s our status on--” she cuts off as she sees the man’s bloodied figure. She calls softly to Allison, gesturing toward the immobile man before moving to Derek. “Listen to me,” she says firmly. “Derek, look at me!” He does. “Listen. We’re holding this Valley, no matter what.”

“We’re going to die,” Derek states, voice tight from fear and disuse.

Laura looks at him steadily. “We’re not gonna die. We can’t die, Derek. And you know why? Because we are so very pretty. We are just too pretty for God to let us die.” She smirks, and he gives her a slight grimace in response. “Just look at that chiseled jaw,” she says, grabbing his chin. He smiles, just barely, and she beams. “Come on.”

The sound of aircraft overhead makes them both look up, and Laura’s grin gets impossibly wider. “If you won’t listen to me, listen to that. Those are our angels. They’re gonna blow the Hunters to the hot place.” She turns to shout orders over her shoulder. “Allison, tell the 82nd to--”

“They’re not coming,” Allison interrupts. Laura freezes, smile still stuck on her face. “The Pack says it’s too hot,” Allison continues. “They’re pulling out. We’re to lay down arms.”

Derek and Laura look at each other, her confusion equaling his terror. “But what’s…” Laura begins, voice small.

They stand, looking over the barricade to see Hunter ships swiftly approaching.

An increased flurry of gunfire rains down.

Laura falls.

They have lost.


	2. Six Years Later

Captain Derek Hale floats upside down before the entrance of an abandoned ship. “The vault’s sealed,” he announces. “I’m going to boil it. Jackson, give me the sticky.”

Jackson drifts forward and gingerly hands him the tube of explosive. Derek spreads the gel around the door’s lock pad, moving back as it begins to heat up. “Okay,” he says as the originally clear substance turns red-hot, “we get the goods, we’re off this wreck and back on the ship. No worries.” The charge begins to smoke, and the metal of the door melts. The lock pad flies out into open space.

“Full pressure,” Allison confirms. “The goods must be intact.”

Jackson and Derek slide open the door and shine a light inside, revealing a packed cargo hold. “Looking good.”

A voice crackles through their in-suit radios. “Captain, we’ve got an incoming Hunter cruiser bearing right down on us!”

“[ _On est foutus_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/767840/chapters/1440714/),” Derek mutters. “Have they spotted us?”

Scott sounds uncertain. “I can’t tell if--”

“Have they hailed us?” insists Derek.

“If they’re here for the salvage,” interjects Jackson, “we’re fucked.”

“If they find us at all, we’re fucked,” Allison replies. “Thieving isn’t exactly--”

“I don’t like this…”

“Scott, shut it down,” Derek orders. “Now. Everything but the air.” After a moment, the lights of _Aconite_ go out, and the Hunter ship is visible. “Are they slowing down?”

“Not that I can tell,” Scott answers, relief evident in his voice. “Doesn’t look like they’re interested in us. We should be eating wake in a minute or two.”

They wait, tense, for the ship to pass them by. Instead, it slows down.

“Captain,” Scott panics over the radio, “we’re fucked!”

“Prep the ship,” instructs Derek. “Now.” He grabs a crate and hauls it towards his ship. “We move these in, double time.” _Aconite_ ’s lights come back on, and Derek gives a new command. “Crybaby, cry…”

“Make your mother sigh,” finishes Scott. “Engaging the Crybaby.”

As soon as Jackson and Allison make it through the entrance to the ship, Derek punches the airlock control, reinstating oxygen and eliminating their previous weightlessness. “We’re on,” he informs Scott. “Go.”

“Hang on, travelers,” is the reply, and _Aconite_ surges forward.

* * *

Scott is supposed to be watching the radars, monitoring the surrounding region of space for any trouble. He knows this. And he is, if only out of the corner of his eye. But he’s got far more important things on his mind at the moment.

“Everything looks good from here,” he announces. “Yes, this is a fertile land,” he makes his plastic stegosaurus say, “and we will thrive. We will rule over all this land,” he gestures to his control panel with his toy, “and will call it…This Land.”

“I think we should call it Your Grave!” he says in his raspy tyrannosaurus rex voice.

“Curse your sudden, but inevitable, betrayal!” cries the other dinosaur.

“Ah ha ha,” chortles the t-rex, “mine is an evil laugh. Now die!”

The stegosaurus is viciously attacked, crying out, “No, God! Oh, dear God in Heaven!”

Suddenly, an alarm beeps out a warning, and Scott abandons his dinosaurs. He clears several toys off of a radar to reveal a ship, swiftly approaching his own. “Motherless son of a bitch,” he mutters, reaching for his radio. “Captain, we’ve got an incoming Hunter cruiser bearing right down on us!”

“[ _On est foutus_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/767840/chapters/1440714/),” is the reply. “Have they spotted us?”

Scott checks his screens, uncertain. “I can’t tell if--”

“Have they hailed us?” insists Derek.

“If they’re here for the salvage, we’re fucked,” he hears Jackson announce.

“If they find us at all, we’re fucked.” Though they can’t see him, Scott nods his agreement to Allison’s statement. “Thieving isn’t exactly--”

“I don’t like this…”

“Scott, shut it down,” Derek orders. “Now. Everything but the air.”

Scott complies, flipping switches on the console. “Danny,” he calls over the ship’s intercom, “go to blackout. We’re being buzzed.”

“Got it,” Danny replies. “Going dark.”

After a moment, the lights in the cockpit flicker into darkness.

“Are they slowing down?” Derek’s voice comes through his radio once more.

Scott carefully examines his screens. “Not that I can tell,” he answers, relieved. “Doesn’t look like they’re interested in us. We should be eating wake in a minute or two.” He waits, tense, for the ship to pass them by. Just when he thinks they’re in the clear, the radar beeps, alerting him to a scan. “ _[Merde](http://archiveofourown.org/works/767840/chapters/1440714/)! [ C'est vraiment mauvais](http://archiveofourown.org/works/767840/chapters/1440714/)_,” he complains, and grabs the radio. “Captain, we’re fucked!”

“Prep the ship,” instructs Derek. “Now.”

Scott adjusts the controls, dimly registering Derek barking out instructions to Jackson and Allison. “Fire it up,” he tells Danny through the intercom.

Derek gives him a new command. “Crybaby, cry…”

“Make your mother sigh,” finishes Scott. He flips a switch. “Engaging the Crybaby.”

He waits anxiously for the crew to return to _Aconite_. After a few minutes, Derek’s voice cuts through the usual noises that fill the cockpit. “We’re on,” he informs. “Go.”

Scott grips the yoke tightly. “Hang on, travelers,” he directs, and _Aconite_ surges forward.

* * *

The Interim Armored Vehicle _Dortmunder_ is en route to Beaumonde when it happens upon the wreckage of an abandoned ship. As is protocol, the Captain is immediately summoned to the cockpit.

“What am I looking at?” he demands.

“It’s a carrier,” the Pilot answers. “Blew out a few months back. Lost all hands, but it was only run by a skeleton crew anyway.”

“Damn shame,” the Captain replies, and the Pilot nods his agreement. “No point in checking for survivors?”

As he shakes his head, an Analyst calls out, “Sir, there is a reading on that thing.” He turns toward the Captain and continues, “Some residual heat.”

“Do a sweep,” the Captain orders.

Once the scan completes, the Analyst reads off the data. “It’s a transport ship,” he says, surprised. “Werewolf class.”

“They still make those?” asks the Pilot, amused.

“Illegal salvage,” explains the Captain, disgusted. “Low-life wolves picking the flesh off the dead.”

“Should we deploy gunships and bring her in?”

“Do it.”

The Pilot is about to give the order when the Analyst announces, “Captain, I’m picking up a distress signal, 13 clicks ahead, from a… it sounds like a personnel carrier. It’s definitely a big ship, sir, and she’s without power.”

The Captain is silent as he weighs his options.

“They’re rabbitting, sir,” informs the Pilot. “Should we continue deployment?”

“Our gunships would never get back to us in time.” The Captain sighs. “Alright, let’s go help these people. But put out a bulletin on the Cortex and flag Interpol: a Werewolf with possible stolen goods on board. Maybe somebody will shoot those dogs.”

The crewmembers comply, and _Dortmunder_ surges forward.

* * *

“We look shiny, Captain. They are not -- repeat -- they are not coming about.”

“Close one,” mutters Allison as they leave the airlock.

Derek murmurs his agreement as Jackson counters, “Any one you walk away from, right? As long as we got the goods, I call this one a win.”

“Right,” answers Derek tonelessly. “We win.”

He sends Allison up to the cockpit to retrieve Scott, and Jackson to the engine room for Danny. Once they return, he breaks the lock off one of the crates to get a look at the cargo. “Well, there we are,” he says, looking down at the stacks of gleaming bricks.

“They’re really pretty,” states Allison.

Derek picks up one of the blocks, turning it over in his hands. While the front is completely flat, the back is imprinted with the image of a flower.

“I’d say they were worth a little risk,” Scott says.

“Yeah,” scoffs Jackson, “that was some pretty risky sitting you did there.”

“That’s right, of course, because they wouldn’t arrest me if we got boarded. I’m just the Pilot. I can always say that I was flying the ship by accident.”

“[ _Ferme la_](../),” Derek orders before Jackson can bite back a retort.

“Problem?” Allison questions.

He sets the slab back into place and returns the lid. “Couldn’t say. But we’d better be getting rid of these before we run into another Hunter patrol.”

“What the hell are they doing this far out, anyway?” asks Jackson bends to lift the crate.

“Shining the light of civilization,” Danny answers ironically, taking the other end.

Derek walks with Scott towards the stairway to the cockpit. “How long until we reach Persephone?” he wants to know.

“Three or four hours,” is the reply.

“Can we cut that down?”

“We’re practically running on fumes. If we increase power, we might not even make it.”

“Okay,” Derek nods. “But play it as close as you can. I want to dump this cargo.”

“Think that cruiser might have ID’d us?” Allison worries.

“Let’s hope not. Contact Peter. Tell him the job’s done. Don’t mention the cruiser, though. Keep it simple.”

“Are we sure there’s nothing wrong with the--”

“It’s fine. I just want to get paid.”

Allison nods, and she and Scott head to the cockpit.

“Alright, let’s get these crates stowed,” Derek says, turning to Jackson and Danny. “I don’t want any tourists stumbling over them.”

“We’re taking on passengers at Persephone?” Danny asks, excited.

“That’s the idea. We could use a little respectability on the way to Boros.” Derek moves aside a panel to reveal a compartment hidden in the wall of the ship. “Not to mention the money,” he adds, crouching down to look inside.

Jackson, of course complains. “It’s a pain in the ass.”

“No, it’s shiny,” argues Danny. “I like to meet new people. They’ve all got stories.”

“Captain, can’t you stop him from being cheerful? Please?”

Derek laughs as he and Jackson bend to lift a container. “I don’t think there’s a power in the Universe that could stop Danny from being cheerful.” They slide the crate into the hold. “But sometimes, you just want to duct tape his mouth and dump him in the hold for a month.”

As Derek reaches for the second crate, Danny kisses his cheek. “I love my captain,” he says, grinning. Derek smirks and lifts the container.

* * *

“I know something’s not right,” Allison insists as she and Scott walk to the cockpit.

“Sweetie,” Scott says incredulously, “we’re criminals. If everything were right, we’d be in jail.”

“It’s just that Derek’s so tense…”

“The man needs a break. In fact,” --Scott slows-- “we could all use a couple days’ leave.” He grabs Allison's wrist gently.

She sighs. “We’ve still got to drop the goods.” She continues walking.

“And when we do,” Scott says, trailing after her, “we’ll fly off to Boros, rich and prosperous-- well, less poor, but with enough to find a little getaway.”

“I would love a real bath,” Allison replies wistfully.

“And a meal that included some form of _actual_ food.” They reach the cockpit. “Just a couple days of lying around, you bathing… me watching you bathe…” His arms circle her waist.

“Well,” she says doubtfully, “if the Captain says it’s alright…”

Scott pulls away. “What if we just told Derek we needed a couple of days instead of asking him?”

“He’s the _Captain_ , Scott.”

“Right, and I’m just the husband.” He smiles sardonically.

“Look, I’ll ask him,” Allison says soothingly.

“Don’t forget to call him _sir_. He likes that.”

“Who likes what?” asks Derek, entering the cockpit.

“It’s nothing, sir,” Allison answers, ignoring Scott’s sarcastic thumbs up.

“Has the Ambassador checked in yet?”

“No,” Scott replies. “I think she had a pretty full schedule.”

“Well, after you talk to Peter, let her know that we may be leaving Persephone in a hurry.”

Allison nods. “Erica has our timetable. She should be checking in soon.”

“I can tell her to cut it short,” offers Scott. “Have her meet us at the docks.”

“No,” Derek objects. “I don’t want to get in her way if we don’t have to.” He exits the cockpit. “Somebody on this boat has to make an honest living,” he mutters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The flower imprinted on the back of the goods looks something like the one found [here](http://www.goatworld.com/health/plants/graphics/aconite1.jpg).


	3. Persephone

Erica rests leisurely in one of her chairs, her Client sitting next to her. “Beacon isn’t that different from this planet,” she states conversationally. “More crowded, obviously, and I guess more complicated.” The Client watches her in awed silence. “The great city itself is… pictures can’t capture it. It’s like an ocean of light.” Through it all, her smile never falters.

“Is that where you studied?” the Client asks. “To be a Mate?”

“I was born there.”

“I can’t imagine ever leaving,” he says thoughtfully.

“Well,” Erica begins, her expression unmoving, “I wanted to see the Universe.”

“Do you really have to leave? I mean I… my father is very influential,” he pleads. “We could… I could arrange for you to be…” She shakes her head slightly, and the Client rises dejectedly to dress. “The experience has been more than…” he pauses, unsure. “It was very good. Thank you.”

“The time went too quickly.”

“Well, your clock’s probably rigged to speed up and cheat us out of our fun.” Erica’s smile fades. Her Client swallows and nods slightly, then leaves.

She watches him exit before pushing aside a curtain and entering the control area of her shuttle. She sits, pushing several buttons before saying via radio, “ _Aconite_ , this is Shuttle One. What’s your ETA?”

“We’re touching down at the Eavesdown Docks in about ten minutes,” Scott’s voice replies.

“I’ll join you there. Thanks.”

“Looking forward to it. We missed you out here.”

Erica smiles slightly. “Yeah. Me too.”

Her shuttle takes flight.

* * *

The crew disembarks almost as soon as _Aconite_ touches down.

“This shouldn’t take too long,” announces Derek. “Put us down for departure in about three hours,” he says to Danny before turning to Scott. “Grab any supplies we’re low on and fuel her up.”

“I’d sure love to find a brand new compression coil for the steamer,” hints Danny as he tags along behind Derek.

“Yes, and I’d like to be the Alpha of all of France and wear a shiny hat.” Danny frowns at his sarcasm. “Look, just get us some passengers,” orders Derek. “Ones who can pay, alright?”

“If the compression coil busts, we’re drifting,” Danny insists.

“Don't bust it, then.” Derek heads back to the ship as Danny sighs, finalizing their information in the docking system.

Before Allison can leave with Derek and Jackson, Scott calls out to her. “ _[La situation est vraiment foutu](http://archiveofourown.org/works/767840/chapters/1441356/). [Sois prudent](http://archiveofourown.org/works/767840/chapters/1441356/)._”

She nods. “We will.” Then she is gone.

* * *

Derek strides toward Peter’s Den, Jackson and Allison trailing behind him. They are made to wait a moment while Peter finishes business with a woman --Derek vaguely hears him say something about her teeth-- before they are allowed  in by one of his men. “You’re late,” declares Peter, walking towards his desk.

“You’re lying,” Derek responds simply.

Peter turns around slowly. “What did you just say to me?”

“You’re well aware we landed two hours before we planned to, with all the goods intact, ready to roll. So your decision to get irritable, say we’re late, means you’re looking to put us on the defensive right from the start. Which means something’s gone wrong.” Derek glances at Jackson and Allison. “It didn’t go wrong on _our_ end, so why don’t we start again with you telling us what’s up.”

Peter smirks and sits down. “You’re later than I’d like,” he amends.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Derek says sarcastically.

“If you had gotten here sooner,” --he brandishes a Cortex announcement at them-- “you might’ve beaten the bulletin that came up saying, ‘Rogue vessel, classification Werewolf, was spotted pulling illegal salvage on a derelict transport.’”

“Didn’t ID us,” argues Derek. “It doesn’t lead to you.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Peter agrees. “But a government stamp on every molecule of the cargo just might.” Derek grimaces as Allison turns to glare at him. “Oh, you noticed that. You were going to hand over imprinted goods and just watch me squirm? Is that it?”

“We didn’t pick the cargo.”

“And I didn’t flash my ass at the gorram law! There’s no deal.”

Derek takes a slow step forward. “That’s not fair,” Allison says angrily.

“Crime and politics, little girl,” replies Peter. “The situation is always… fluid.”

“The only fluid I see here,” says Jackson, “is the puddle of piss refusing to pay us our wage.”

Peter stands up and his men raise their weapons. Jackson moves to draw his gun, but Derek shakes his head. He holsters it, and Derek turns back to Peter, smiling mockingly. “It doesn’t have to go this way,” he says, walking forward. “You know you can still unload those goods, so I can’t help thinking there's something else going on here.”

“What were you in the War?” Peter asks abruptly, approaching Derek. “The big War you failed to win?” He walks around the other man, speaking derisively. “You were a Beta, yeah? Beta Derek Hale, Claws and Silver Arrows Brigade.” He walks towards Allison, still talking. “Big, tough veteran. Now you’ve got yourself a ship,” he continues, turning to face Derek once more, “and you’re a captain. Only, I think you’re still a Beta. Still a soldier. A man of honor in a Den of thieves. Well, this is my gorram Den, and I don’t like the way you look down on me. I’m above you,” he spits, “better than. I’m a business man. I’ve got roots in the community. You’re just a scavenger.”

“Well, maybe I’m not a fancy gentleman,” Derek says the last two words disdainfully, “like you, but I do business. We’re here for business.”

“Try one of the Border Planets,” Peter suggests dismissively. “They’re a lot more desperate there. Of course, they might kill you.” He sounds gleeful at the prospect. “But if you stay here, I just know the Hunters will track you down. I have that feeling.”

“The wheel never stops turning, Peter,” Derek says as he walks out of the Den.

“That only matters to the people on the rim.”

* * *

Deaton moves slowly, dragging his luggage through the marketplace and carefully taking in the sights. “Going on a trip, Grandpa?” asks a voice from behind him. He turns, only now the voice is in front of him. “You need safe passage? We’re cheap.” Deaton turns to face the man, looking him up and down. “We’re cheap, we’re clean, and the Brutus,” he points, “is the best ship in the Universe.” Deaton glances at the ship. It’s very large, a cruiser liner. _Too impersonal_ , he thinks. _It has no soul_. “What’s your destination, Grandpa?” the man insists. “Come on, we’re hitting the Outer Rings.”

Deaton shakes his head, still looking at the ship. “I never married,” he states, as if that explains everything.

“What?” asks the man, confused.

Deaton smiles over his shoulder as he walks away. “I’m not a Grandpa.”

Through the hoards of people and clusters of stalls, Deaton makes out another ship. A good model, Werewolf class. A young man lounges in a chair on the deck, watching as people pass by. Deaton has almost put the ship behind him when the man calls out, “You’re gonna come with us.”

He turns, surprised. “Excuse me?”

“You like ships,” the man explains. “You don’t seem to be looking at the destinations. What you care about is the ships, and,” the man gestures behind him, “mine’s the nicest.”

“She doesn’t look like much,” Deaton replies skeptically. It’s a lie --the ship looks like she has a wonderful spirit-- but he wants to see what the man will say.

“Oh, she’ll fool you.” The man smiles nonchalantly. “Have you ever sailed in a Werewolf?”

Deaton chuckles. “Long before you were crawling. Not an Oh-Three, though. Didn’t have the extenders. It tended to shake.”

The young man stands and walks toward him. “So, why don’t you care where you’re going?”

“Because how you get there is the worthier part.”

The man nods. “Are you a Wiccan?”

“I guess. I’m a Witch from the Southdown Coven. Deaton,” he says, offering his hand. “I’m called Deaton.” The young man accepts his hand, shaking it welcomingly. “I’ve been out of the world for a spell. I’d like to walk it a while. Maybe bring the Rede to those who need it.”

The man nods again, listening thoughtfully. “Well, I’m Danny, and this,” he gestures behind him once more, “is Aconite. She’s the smoothest ride from here to Boros for anyone who can pay.” Suddenly realizing that this might be a problem, he asks, “ _Can_ you pay? Or…?” He makes a face.

“Well,” says Deaton, reaching into his luggage, “I’ve got a little cash, and, uh…” He presents Danny with a small box.

“Ooh, Grandpa,” Danny exclaims, opening the box to find a plump red strawberry.

Deaton smiles and closes the box. “I never married.”

* * *

Derek walks back through the marketplace, Allison trailing quietly behind, and Jackson right at his side, complaining the whole way. “I don’t understand why we didn’t leave the son of a bitch in a pool of his own blood,” he says angrily.

“We’d be dead,” Derek states. “You can’t get paid if you’re dead.”

“You can’t get paid if you crawl away like a bug, either. I’ve got a share of this job. Ten percent of nothing is-- let me do the math here: nothing, and then nothing, and then carry the nothing…”

Allison ignores him, talking only to Derek. “We can find a buyer on Boros. There’s got to be--”

“Boros is too big,” Derek interrupts. “It’s crawling with Hunters. They could be waiting for us.”

“Do you really think Peter would sell us out the Feds?”

“If he hasn’t already.” The three glance warily at a group of them that they pass.

“If the Hunters catch us with government goods, we’ll lose the ship.”

“That’s never going to happen,” Derek assures her.

“We could always just dump the cargo,” Allison suggests.

“No fucking way!” objects Jackson. “We haven’t had a job in weeks. I didn’t sign on with this crew to take in the sights. We need money.”

“Jackson, your mouth is talking. You might want to see to that.”

Jackson glares at Derek. “Oh, I’m ready to stop talking when--”

“You’re right, though.” Derek admits. “The last two jobs we had were crap pay. We’ve got nothing saved, and taking on passengers won’t help nearly enough.” He and Allison look at each other steadily. “If we don’t get paid for this cargo, we don’t have enough money to fuel the ship, let alone keep her in repair. She’ll be dead in the water.”

“So we do what Peter said?” asks Allison. “Try the Border Planets?”

Derek nods. “I’m thinking Whitefall. Maybe talk to Morrell.”

Allison rolls her eyes. “We don’t want to deal with Morrell again.”

“Why not?”

She looks at him disbelievingly. “She shot you.”

“Well, yeah, she did, but--”

“So, we find somebody else. Ennis.”

“He can’t afford it.”

“Carver boys.”

“They wouldn’t touch it. Do you want me to go through the list?” Allison sighs. “Kali is insane, Lahey’s dead--”

“He’s _dead_?”

“Town got hit by Demons, they burned it down.”

Jackson shakes his head fiercely. “I’m not going anywhere near Demon territory.”

“Whitefall is the safest and the closest,” Derek insists. “It’s been a long time since Morrell shot me, and that was due to a perfectly legitimate conflict of interest. I’ve got no grudge. She owns half that damn moon now, she can afford what we’ve got and she might need it.”

“I still don’t think she’s the way to go,” Allison maintains.

“I’m not saying it won’t be tricky, but we’ve got no choice.”

They’ve reached Aconite, where Scott is hauling new luggage into the cargo bay. They hear Danny welcome a “Mr. Daehler” aboard.

“We’ve just got to keep our heads down, do the job, and pray there aren’t anymore surprises.”

They board the ship, and Derek notices a thin pale man standing off to the side. “This is Stiles,” Danny informs him. “Stiles, this is our Captain.”

Stiles nods at him. “Captain Hale.”

Derek is still staring at him. “Welcome aboard,” he says warily. He turns to Danny. “Is this all we’ve got?” He nods, and Derek heads into the cargo hold.

Allison intercepts him by the stairs. “Now we have a boat full of citizens right on top of our stolen cargo. That’s a fun mix.” She gives him an accusing look.

“There’s no way in the Universe they could find that compartment,” he says complacently, “even if they were looking for it.”

“Why not?”

“…Because.”

She stares at him. “Yeah, this is going to go _great_.”

“If anyone gets nosy, you know, just… shoot them.” He turns towards the stairs.

“Shoot them?”

“Politely.”

* * *

Scott is almost done preparing for takeoff when his radar informs him that Erica’s shuttle has arrived. “Just in time,” he informs her over the radio.

“Let me guess,” she answers, “we’re in a hurry?”

“Looks like it.” He flips a few switches. “Starboard hatch is green for docking.”

“Locked in five… four… three… two…”

The screens show the shuttle slide smoothly into its slot. “The Ambassador has returned,” he announces through the cockpit door.

Allison nods and runs out to the cargo bay. “We’ve got a full house, Captain.”

“Danny, I’m locking it up,” Derek calls, hitting a switch near the airlock.

“All aboard,” says Danny softly, looking out across the Docks. He grabs his chair and enters the cargo bay as the airlock doors shut behind him and _Aconite_ lifts off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Wiccan Rede](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wiccan_Rede) is the moral code that many Wiccans follow. It states: _An it harm none, do what ye will._


	4. In Space

“Meals are served up here in the dining area,” Derek explains, finishing his tour of the ship. “The kitchen is pretty much self-explanatory. You’re welcome to eat any time. What we’ve got is pretty standard, I guess. Protein in all the colors of the rainbow. We do have sit-down meals, though. The next one is at about 1800.” He glances around the packed dining room. “Is there anything anyone wants to add?”

Danny pipes up, “I think Witch Deaton has offered to help with dinner.” Deaton smiles and nods.

“You’re a Witch?” Derek says irritably.

“I thought the outfit gave it away,” answers Deaton. Taking in the look on Derek’s face, he asks, “Is that a problem?”

“Of course not,” says Danny before Derek can respond. “It’s not a problem.” He looks at Derek. “’Cause it’s not.”

Derek frowns at him, then turns to the Witch. “It’s not a problem.” He faces the rest of the group. “Like I said, you’re welcome to visit the dining area any time. Apart from that, I’ll have to ask you to stay in the passenger dorm while we’re in the air. The cockpit, the engine room, the cargo bay, they’re all off-limits without an escort.”

Stiles looks troubled. “Some of my personal effects are in the cargo bay.”

“I figure you’ve all got luggage that you’ll need to get into. As soon as we’re done here, we’ll be happy to go and get them with you.” Derek pauses, glancing at Allison. “There’s one other thing, and I apologize in advance for the inconvenience. Unfortunately, we’ve been ordered by the Hunters to drop off some medical supplies on Whitefall. It’s the fourth Moon on Athens,” he explains. “It’s a little out of our way, but we should have you on Boros with no more than a day off schedule.”

“What medical supplies?” asks Stiles, frowning.

Derek gives him a steady look. “I honestly didn’t ask.”

“It’s probably plasma, insulin,” Allison interjects, “whatever they don’t have enough of on the Border Moons.”

“The Hunters say jump…” Derek trails off. Stiles nods, not looking entirely convinced. “Allison, do you want to take them to the cargo bay?” She gestures for them to follow her. “If there’s anything else you need, just ask,” Derek calls after them. “We, uh… live to serve.” The passengers don’t catch the irony in his voice. “Did you send word to Morrell?” he asks Scott once they’re alone.

Scott nods. “But I haven’t heard back yet.” They walk to the cockpit. “Didn’t she shoot you one time?”

Derek stops at the door. “Everybody’s focusing on that.”

He leaves Scott to pilot the ship, heading back down to the cargo bay. Standing with Danny, he watches his new passengers look through their luggage, gathering what they think they’ll need. Stiles doesn’t stray far from the large container that he brought with him. Daehler doesn’t seem to be paying much attention to where he’s going, bumping into Stiles on several occasions, and tripping over the frame of the door on his way out. Deaton finishes first, approaching Danny with a small wooden box and a cloth sack. Danny accepts them graciously, smiling and thanking the older man. The shuttle door opens, and Erica walks out.

“The Ambassador graces us with her presence,” announces Derek teasingly.

“Hello, Derek,” she replies, ignoring his comment. “I see we have some new faces.”

Danny grins broadly at her. “Hey you.”

“Hey yourself,” she smiles back.

“Ambassador, this is Witch Deaton,” Derek informs her.

“I’d have to say, this is the first time we’ve had a Wiccan onboard.”

“Well,” Deaton replies, shaking her hand “I wasn’t expecting to see a state official, either.” Derek laughs and Erica frowns. Deaton looks between the two of them, confused. “I missing something funny.”

“Not _so_ funny,” mutters Danny.

Erica explains, “ _Ambassador_ is Derek’s way of--”

“She’s a whore,” Derek interrupts.

“The term is _Mate_ ,” scolds Danny.

“I always get those two mixed up. How’s business?” he says to Erica

“None of yours,” she answers sweetly.

Derek smirks, then turns to Deaton. “She pretty much _is_ our Ambassador. There are plenty of planets that wouldn’t even let you dock without a decent Mate on board.”

Deaton nods thoughtfully. “Well,” he says after a brief silence, “I’ve never met a Mate before, either.” He smiles. “I never caught your name.”

“Erica,” she tells him. “Well, if that’s all, I’ll be in my shuttle.” She turns to leave, and Danny follows.

“Don’t you want to meet the rest of the group?” Derek asks.

She smiles tightly. “Maybe later.”

“So,” Danny asks as they head to Erica’s shuttle together, “how many fell madly in love with you and wanted to take you away from all this?”

Erica laughs. “Just the one. I think I’m slipping.”

* * *

With the fresh food that Deaton brought with him, he and Danny are able to prepare a meal fit for kings. The passengers sing their praises, but Deaton refuses them. “It’s not much,” he insists. “We had a garden at the Coven, and I thought I’d bring what I could.”

“It’s very kind of you to share with all of us,” maintains Stiles.

“It won’t last,” he responds as Allison heads to the cockpit to give a plate to Scott. “And it’s not the same when it’s frozen. The important thing is the spices,” he informs to the table at large. “A man can live on packaged food from here to the End if he’s got enough rosemary.”

The chatter diminishes after that, until Stiles suddenly asks, “Does it happen a lot? The government commandeering your ship and telling you where to go?”

“That’s what governments are for,” says Derek bitterly. “To get in a man’s way.”

“Well, it’s good,” interjects Daehler, “if the supplies are needed. I hear a lot of the Border Moons are in bad shape-- plagues and famine.”

“Some of that’s exaggerated,” says Allison as she returns, “and some of it’s not. All those Moons, just like the Central Planets, they’re as close to Earth-That-Was as we can make them: gravity, atmosphere, you name it.”

“Once they’re terraformed,” Derek cuts in, “they’ll dump settlers on there with nothing but blankets, hatchets, maybe a herd of cattle. Some of them make it. Some of them…”

As he trails off, Stiles says quietly, “Then I guess it’s good we’re helping.”

Derek gives him a steady look, and Danny asks, “You’re a Doctor, right?”

Stiles nods. “I was a trauma surgeon on Osiris, in the capital city.”

“That’s a long way from here,” observes Derek.

Danny ignores him. “You seem so young to be a Doctor.”

Stiles grins. “You’re pretty young to be a ship’s Mechanic.”

“I guess,” Danny allows. “Machines just… they talk to me.”

“That’s a rare gift,” admires Deaton.

Danny flushes slightly. “Well, not like being a _Doctor_. He _fixes_ people. That’s important.”

Jackson snorts. “Danny just wishes you were a proctologist.”

Danny freezes, beet red, while Jackson continues to laugh. “You will keep a civil tongue in that mouth,” Derek orders, “or I will sew it shut. Is there an understanding between us?”

Jackson grits his teeth, glaring at Derek. “You don’t pay me to talk nicely. Just because Danny gets hard over some big-shot Doctor--”

“Walk away from this table,” Derek’s voice is low and dangerous. “Right now.”

Everyone is silent as the two men stare at each other. Finally, Jackson grabs his plate and leaves, grumbling to himself the whole while.

Stiles watches him leave with a look of disgusted fascination on his face. “What _do_ you pay him for?” Derek freezes, fork halfway to his mouth. “I mean, what’s his job on the ship?”

“Public relations.”

* * *

Erica has almost finished her sponge bath when there is a knock on her door. “[ _Entre_](../),” she calls, and Deaton enters, averting his eyes when she sees her naked back.

“If I’m intruding,” he begins.

“Not at all. I expected you.”

“Is this how you always dress for company?” he jokes. She ties a robe around herself before turning around, and when she does, she’s smiling. “I brought you some dinner,” he informs her, holding out a tray.

“Thank you,” she says, not expecting his kindness.

“The Captain said you might like it,” he explains. “I was surprised at his concern.”

“For a lowly whore?” She smiles ruefully.

“It was unjust for him to call you that.”

Erica laughs. “I’ve called him worse. Anyway, he doesn’t mean it. Not really.”

Deaton nods thoughtfully. “He’s not wildly interested in ingratiating himself with anyone, but he seems very protective of his crew. It’s odd.”

“Why are you so fascinated by him?” she wonders.

“Because he’s something of a mystery.”

“Not to me. I’ve already solved it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A proctologist is a doctor who specializes in the colon, rectum, and anus. They're essentially a butt doctor.


End file.
